


The Promise

by LaskaSprite



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Battle, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, M/M, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suicide Attempt, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25421755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaskaSprite/pseuds/LaskaSprite
Summary: Why did Felix only come to terms with his emotions when it was too late?Some time after the five year timeskip, the former Blue Lions students have come together to fight under Dimitri for the Kingdom. But Felix? He considers himself fighting against the Empire, rather than for the Kingdom. He only fights for himself. Or so he thought...
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 24





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> So... I haven't written anything in a while. I just wasn't writing. A while ago I wrote another story focusing on Sylvain and Felix, and then I had an idea to do this. Hopefully there aren't any mistakes.

Why did Felix only come to terms with his emotions when it was too late?

Only five minutes into the battle, the ground was littered with the unmoving figures of fallen soldiers. The sound of clashing metal and painful screams echoed in Felix’s ears, loud and clear. But this was not the time to falter. Felix never faltered, and he didn’t plan on starting anytime soon.

He stepped forward, gripping his sword. The hilt felt cool against his palm, a feeling he found reassuring. When was it not? For as long as he could remember, he’d had a sword at his side. He learned how to wield it before he could read or write. It was no surprise he attended, studied in and moved on from the Officers Academy to join the Kingdom Army, and no surprised he ended up on the battlefield, fighting the Empire for Fódlan’s future.

Dimitri’s orders had been clear: Always keep a familiar face within view. A way to strengthen the force and keep his allies safe, no doubt. Had he said this a month ago, Felix would have disregarded the strategy in favor of fighting solo. But the Boar Prince had changed. He was less beast now, more… human. Maybe he had the right idea. Fighting with those you know was easier than learning the mind of a stranger. Besides, someone had to be there to save a struggling ally.

Felix was aware of Ashe to his right and Mercedes behind him, healing a wounded soldier. He rarely respected formations, moving around the battlefield as he pleased and fighting where he was needed most. In this case, he made for the front line. Getting there was no trouble. The Kingdom Army had solid defense, so enemy soldiers and stray bodies were scarce. It was a stark contrast to the front. The relative center of the battlefield was one large, blood-stained mess. Felix had fought many battles, but never had he encountered anything as intense as what lay before him. The sheer number of dead soldiers was overwhelming, at least one for every living. The very air tasted of blood. Determined to not let himself lose discipline over it, Felix lifted his eyes from the red-stained ground and instead focused on the rapid-paced battle in front of him.

After just a few minutes of hacking, slashing and stabbing at anything that wasn’t fighting for the kingdom, Felix’s sword was drenched in blood, and so was he. Granted, most of it wasn’t his. He’d hit a few jugular veins, and a couple of his attacks went clean through both the unlucky Imperial soldier and the back of their armor. He himself had only a few scratches that drew blood, though he suspected a bruise would form on his stomach where he’d been kicked amidst the confusion.

After smiting down another Imperial soldier in a sea of chaos, he became quite suddenly aware that he was being watched. Upon turning, he saw a horse rearing up on its hind legs directly behind him. He would have cut the beast down there and then had he not heard the rider’s voice. It was many things: warm, melodic, and quite calm for someone in the middle of a battle. But above all else, it was familiar.

“Woah! Easy there, Fe. I can’t triumphantly ride to your aid if my noble steed is swiss cheese.” Felix looked up, ignoring the nickname told himself he hated, and saw Sylvain, one of his award-winning (or at the very least girl-winning) smiled plastered across his face.

Felix wasn’t sure how it was possible amidst so much bloodshed, but when Sylvain gazed down at him, with that characteristic look in his eyes and the bright red hue of his hair highlighted by the start of an orange sunset, he looked… oddly beautiful. Felix quickly caught himself and backpedaled in his mind, trying desperately to erase the thought from existence, convince himself it didn’t happen. Needless to say, he failed. Now his frantic attempt to deny it was etched into his memory as well. Great. All he could do was hope he wasn’t blushing, though his face felt suspiciously warm. What was wrong with him? He was on a goddamn battlefield!

“Fe? Are you alright?” Sylvain asked, snapping Felix from his poorly-timed gay thoughts.

“I’m fine.” Felix said scornfully. He was painfully aware of the fact that they would make easy targets of themselves by standing around and talking. The two of them fell back slightly to shield themselves from the attack, but even so, he tightened his grip on his sword. “You’re an idiot for sneaking up on me like that. If I wasn’t listening for familiar voices, your stupid horse would be in pieces right now.”

The taller man laughed and dismounted, landing next to Felix with surprising grace. “Aw, you were listening for my voice? Sounds like you need someone to keep you company.”

“I don’t need…” Felix started, but his voice trailed off. “Whatever. Just don’t get in the way.” At this point, maybe a little help wasn’t such a bad idea.

Together, the two of them pushed forward into battle, fighting wherever they had to. At times they fought side-by-side, other times back-to-back, but always together.

Felix stuck his sword through a soldier’s chest, then struck down two more in quick succession. He felt safer knowing that Sylvain quite literally had his back. Yet despite this, he tensed up a little each time he heard Sylvain’s lance pierce enemy armor. He knew Sylvain was fine and that he could handle himself, but he was still worried for him. He was such an idiot, he told himself. He’d make a mistake sooner or later.

On they fought, endlessly cutting down those who stood against them. The realization came as somewhat of a surprise to Felix, but they worked well together. He always thought that others would get in his way, and yet here he was, with Sylvain of all people fighting like his damn shadow, and it was working. He had an ally. Someone to protect, and someone protecting him.

He hadn’t realized how lost in fighting he’d become until a shout from elsewhere on the battlefield snapped him to attention. A shout in itself was nothing of note, of course, but this was different. He knew that voice. The worried look on Sylvain’s face told him he’d heard it too. Exchanging only that brief glance, they ran over to where the noise had come from, and they quickly found the source. Dimitri knelt in front of them, squeezing his arm just above the elbow. A recent strike had torn through his black armor, likely knocked loose in earlier combat. Blood stained the Crown Prince’s hand and pooled near his feet. Felix rushed into action alongside Sylvain. He almost couldn’t believe it. He fought for none but himself, yet there he was, putting himself in harm’s way to protect another. The battlefield was full of surprises. Dimitri stood up from behind him, Aredbhar in hand.

“Your Highness, are you alright to keep going? That cut looks pretty deep.” Sylvain said, still fighting. His concern, as usual, was poorly masked.

“I assure you, I’m fine.” Just from his tone, Felix could tell that he had no intention of staying for medical attention. He would carry on no matter how grave his injuries were. That was just the sort of person he was. A second later, he was proven right.

“If you’ll excuse me, I was separated from Dedue in the chaos.” With that, the Prince left and was soon out of sight. Foolishly, Felix turned to see him off, striking down a soldier in the process. A moment later, he heard a noise from behind him.

He didn’t know who threw the spear. A soldier, a member of some militia, even an old classmate allied with the Empire. It didn’t matter. He watched in shock as Sylvain went rigid, then fell to the blood-covered ground. Felix called out his name, but he got no reply. Time seemed to stop. In that moment, he sprinted forward, his mind clouded by rage. Blow after blow, slash after slash, he cut down everything in sight. It didn’t matter who. He would have slain the Crown Prince himself if he stood against him in that moment. When no foe remained alive to harm him, he ran back to Sylvain. He dropped to his knees beside him, tears leaving streaks on his blood-spattered face. His sword clattered to the floor; landing forgotten on a scattered pile of weapons and fallen armor. Sylvain coughed shakily, and Felix was filled with dread stronger than any he’d known. Hesitantly, he glanced over at the spear that struck down his best friend. Another wave of dread crashed over him, threatening to knock him down. There was no way the spear could have missed Sylvain’s stomach. He slowly reached to pull it out, but Felix grabbed his hands to stop him.

“Leave it in! You’ll only bleed out faster if you remove it. We need to get you to a healer now!” He said, not caring for or even noticing how quickly he was speaking. Sylvain smiled a weak, pained smile. Felix couldn’t bear to see him with that expression.

“I never thought I’d see that look on your face, Fe.”

“What do you mean?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Heh. You look terrified.”

“Obviously!” He couldn’t stop himself from yelling as tears ran down his cheeks again. “What did you expect? You want me to throw a party while you… while you’re…”

“I want to see you smile. Just… once.” Sylvain said through pained breaths. “I want my last image of you… to be happy.”

“How do you expect me to smile at a time like this?” Felix could hear the wavering of his own voice. His tone was much softer now. “And stop talking like that. We can still find a healer! Or do you want to die?”

“In truth, I’m not ready, Fe, but it can’t be helped. I think we both know… I’m past saving. Do you… remember the time you saved me from that well after Miklan pushed me in? Or… when I lost a bet and had to wear a dress for a day?” Felix thought back to the days before Garreg Mach. Sylvain never did like wells from that day on, and he did look good in that dress. In spite of the situation, and the blood and desolation that surrounded him, Felix smiled.

“Yes. I remember, Sylvain.” He said, controlling his voice, though inside he was still shouting.

“I… I’m glad.” Sylvain said, and he coughed once. “This war has taken so much from everyone. I wish we had more time… to be with each other… like we used to.” He took a deep shaky breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t keep our promise, Fe.” And then he went still, and his hand went limp in Felix’s. He hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Felix squeezed it tight and shut his eyes, anger and sadness building up inside him until he could contain it no longer.

“Sylvain! No! I’m not ready for you to die! I’m not ready to leave you behind!” Then he stopped. The promise. His hand found his sword and he gripped the hilt, his whole arm shaking as he turned the blade on himself. He clamped his other hand on top in a futile attempt to steady it. They promised they would die together. They promised. 

“Felix?”

Felix held out the sword. Just one movement.

They promised.

“Felix!”

Someone was calling for him. He didn’t recognize the voice. In that moment, he knew only one voice, one he’d never hear again. Not that it mattered anymore. His life had no purpose, now that the one person he truly cared for was dead. As he shut his eyes, he braced himself for the feel of his sword piercing his flesh, the last thing he’d ever feel.

In an instant, the sword was knocked from his hand. He opened his eyes and looked without seeing at the person in front of him, then to his blade. He could still do it. He could end it now.

But no.

His life still had a purpose. He would avenge Sylvain’s death… he wouldn’t throw away his life like Dimitri did, back when he was the damned Boar Prince. He’d be patient… cautious. However he did it, no matter how long it took, he would finish what he set out to do. Once his only remaining purpose in life was fulfilled; once he avenged Sylvain by striking down those who took his life, then, and only then, would he take his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I was considering writing a second part to this, so if anyone wants it or maybe just if I feel like it, I'll do that. I was also thinking about writing for other fandoms, but I don't know if people even really read these, so... who knows?


End file.
